


In The Moment We're Lost And Found

by LittleMissBrightside



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 13:10:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21075425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissBrightside/pseuds/LittleMissBrightside
Summary: Eliot's found a spell that allows him to talk to Quentin (like they did in 3x09 "Under Pressure").





	In The Moment We're Lost And Found

**Author's Note:**

> This exists mainly because I have Feelings that I just can't keep to myself.
> 
> Title is from "Wings" by Birdy.

He finishes the spell, tutting with practiced perfection. The connection is palpable, vibrating beneath his skin. He breathes out deeply, letting the tension bleed from his body, as he’s reminded how it feels to be whole. _ As whole as one can be. _ It shatters him and puts him back together in the same breath.

“Eliot, are you there?” Quentin asks, even though there’s no need. The feeling this particular magic invokes is undeniable. As Quentin explained, it’s as if he’s his anchor; a tether in an otherwise weightless existence.

For Eliot, it’s a lost piece of himself returning home. But not for good, never for good. _ What’s a little pain to some minor mending? _“I’m here, Q.” The answering sigh makes him smile. 

Neither of them speaks for a while. There’s an unparalleled comfort in the silence that surrounds them. The silence is kind. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend that the distance between them is mere inches or feet. If silence is kind, then reality is cruel. “Is it okay that I miss you?” He hates how broken he sounds, even if there’s nobody else around to hear it. 

“Is it okay that I wish you didn’t have to?” _ I miss you too _and _ I’m sorry _goes unsaid. It hurts to hear the defeat in Quentin’s voice. Even though it’s a pain they both bear, it doesn’t weigh the same for them.

He’s learned that grief doesn’t just end with acceptance. It circles right back around to denial; to anger. Talking with Q lessens the pain if nothing else. “Should we be moving on?” 

Quentin laughs softly. “Are we going to spend all our time asking questions we don’t honestly want answers to?” He imagines his expression is incredibly fond. The thought tugs and tugs until he’s unraveled. _ What I wouldn’t give for him to look at me like that again_. 

“Do you know how when you’re waking up from a dream and you don’t know you’re dreaming so it just feels like real life? And then suddenly you’re awake; you’re aware of your body again and your surroundings and what’s real.” He closes his eyes, smiles as Quentin hums in response. “I think that’s when it hurts the most,” he confesses, voice barely above a whisper. _ Does it ever stop hurting? _

“I hate that I can’t touch you,” Quentin says. He’s not deflecting, Eliot hears everything he’s not saying. _ I’m sorry I can’t comfort you. I know how much you need touch to feel loved. _ “I hate that the last time we touched, it wasn’t even you at all.” _ And isn’t that their luck? _

“Would it be too bold of me to tell you that I think of all the times I wish I would have kissed you?” He doesn’t expect a response. Quentin laughs graciously anyway. The sound wraps around him like a blanket he wants to curl up inside. They let the silence grow around them once more and he’s content to live and die in its solace. 

There’s a knock at his door and moments later Margo calls out to him. It’s like waking from a dream he’s trying desperately not to forget. There’s no use, the spell is broken. “I have to go, Q,” he says. 

“Are you ever going to let her say hello?” Quentin teases. _ If you were here, I’d kiss that smirk from your lips_, _Coldwater._

“Is it selfish that I just want you all to myself?” he counters. _ I’ve never apologized before, so why start now? _

“Goodbye, El.” 

“Goodbye, Q.”

He can feel the moment the connection is severed; like a piece of himself is being pulled away. It still hurts, _ gods does it hurt_, but each time it hurts just a little less. 


End file.
